Days of the Strong
by Julius
Summary: (Gon) How important is it to be loved? To have someone who cares for you and to care for someone in return? Have you felt the warmth of being cared by your parents?


Days of the Strong  
  
"Hey, mister…"  
  
A boy called, shaking my arms as I sit on the brown bench. I opened my eyes, and began to shift my attention to a blank but innocent face of a child of about 8 years of age. He smiled at me as he loosens his clutch from my sweater, "You're sitting on my ball." He continued.  
  
My eyes grew bigger, but I didn't show off any undesirable reactions. "Oh yes, I thought something was bothering me." I replied, stretching my arm to reach for the round object, pulling it out from my butt, and revealing it to the boy. "Is this the one?" I asked with guilt. He repeatedly bows his head, symbolizing a yes in his actions. I go off with a usual gray approach and I handed it to his little hands.  
  
"Thank you." He uttered, still wearing the same cheerfulness. I responded again with my usual behavior. Waving to him with my left hand with the normal frown. "Mister? What is your name? Why are you alone in the park? Aren't your parents worried about you? Don't you have children waiting for you at home?" He asked, throwing the ball up and catching it as it drops down.  
  
I sighed, and leaned against the bench where I sit. Although I started it with a sigh, I ended it with a smile. I feel something warm after hearing those words once again. Something I really couldn't explain myself. But what I know, I've already felt this warmth… somewhere in the past… a long long past… "If they are still around… they'd surely be…" I murmured to myself, now crouching down, and facing the ground.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"Oh… it was nothing." I grinned, swiping my hair out of my eye. "Do you want to hear a story?" I continued, raising my body for an anticipated reaction from the boy.  
  
"Story? What story?" replied the boy, who seemed to have gained his trust to me as he hops to the bench, sitting left of me.  
  
"It was a story… a story I always wanted to share. It's a story of the tears… the tears of the past…"  
  
I started everything with a deep breath, trying to recall everything, and then, I began opening my mouth, spelling out word by word from it… as I relate the past to him, he stared to my eyes with excitement and anticipation. From there, I felt confidence…  
  
  
  
Hunter X Hunter Fanfiction  
  
Presented by Julius  
  
April 17, 2002  
  
Days of the Strong  
  
It was one quiet night… May, nine years ago. Me and my wife are in the City hospital. She was about to bear a child, and I was waiting patiently outside the delivery room. I remembered smoking a pack of cigars back then. The maintenance even told me to smoke somewhere far from the delivery room as it may affect the health of the babies.  
  
And so I did. I stepped back a few meters away, but still fixed the doors of the room on my sight. Excitedly but worried. Excited, reason would be just natural. That I'll soon become a father. Worried… worried of my wife's health.  
  
I waited for an hour. And another one. Finishing five sticks per hour. Finally, it was five minutes past three o' clock in the morning, one of the doctors pushed the door out of the delivery room. He was dressed in blue and white, stained in blood. Of course, blood from my wife. I hurriedly approached him for the good news. Rubbing my hands in anticipation. He turned to me, decapping his mouth with the mask.  
  
"How's my wife?" I asked nervously.  
  
The doctor lowered his head. Unable to look at me into the eyes. I was a bit stunned back then. Petrified. Feeling that something was wrong. Something bad could've happened. So I asked again, "how's my wife, Doctor?"  
  
Raising his head, he faced me. Calmly placing his palms on both of my shoulders. Smiling, "You are now a father."  
  
"What about my wife?" I asked.  
  
"Your son is really handsome." Cried the doctor.  
  
"What about my wife?" I repeated.  
  
"My assistants will soon bring your son to the incubation room. You may see him there anytime."  
  
"I wanted to see my wife dammit!" I shouted, jamming my fist onto the wall beside the doctor's head.  
  
He knew something was wrong. I know something was wrong. He tried to switch the topic to my son. He was a nice person… nice because he wanted me to feel the comfort rather than pain… that he'd delay the pain… and give me joy.  
  
He bowed his head again, murmuring "She's… brave… and strong…"  
  
I stopped. I knew it. She died. Even before the doctor could spell that word from his mouth, I expected it. She bear my son, in exchange of her own life.  
  
"She's dead, isn't she?" I whispered.  
  
The doctor bowed in affirmation. "She died in vain. She died bearing your son…" He looked at me to the eyes. My eyes were watery. And so are his. He tapped me on my shoulder, and placed his hand around my waist, and the other around my shoulders. He hugged me in despair, "I'm very sorry… my friend…"  
  
Tears showered out. I wasn't able to keep them from doing so. They crawled out of my eyes. And I started to cry… as long as tears lasted… and cry.  
  
The doctor cried with me. I felt it. I wasn't able to smack him with my fist. Even though I wanted to. Even though I felt like to. He had that aura… of a friend. No… not just a friend… but perhaps a brother.  
  
That day… I lost my wife… and on that day… I lost my world.  
  
*****  
  
May 5, The same day when my wife died, I stood before my son. Staring at him with burning eyes.  
  
"You miserable devil. You killed my wife." I murmured quietly, glaring at the baby.  
  
Of course, as an infant, he wouldn't realize what I meant… neither the shape of my angry eyes. But I was amazed… he smiled at me. He wasn't angry. He smiled… that was a nice smile. But I wanted to forget that day. I wanted to forget the day when my son smiled. So I cursed that smile. I cursed it that I'll never ever take care of that child. I left the hospital without granting my son a name. That day… I was alone. No one… was my friend…  
  
******  
  
Several days later, I returned to the hospital, looking for my child. Yes he was still there. His head grew a few strands of hair. I didn't bother to look at him, but he did looked at me. I knew it. As a new born baby, his eyes wouldn't function as soon. But my son was different… I know… he can see me… and he can perhaps understand what I mean with my glare. He greeted me with another smile, and he spelled something from his mouth. "Patawad?" Or was it? That's all I can think of. That was unbelievable. A baby uttering that word? How come? That was impossible.  
  
I frowned… and left.  
  
Later, I returned and talked to the nurse tending to the infants.  
  
"I want my child." I commanded. She smiled to me. Greeting me a good evening afterwards. She was a bit hesitant at first, but she gave in. She had me sign a piece of paper. It was a certification that I have already claimed my child from there. Following it, she gave me a payment note and told me to give it to the cashier. And I did so… paying the cashier.  
  
When I got back to the incubation room, I handed the receipt to the nurse, and she allowed me to take my son with me, waving us goodbye.  
  
I drove him with me. I had him lay on the back seat as I drive in front. He then spoke. Yes… spoke… not just a word but a whole sentence. "Itay… Alam mo… mahal na mahal kita…"  
  
I was terribly shocked. I stopped the car and looked at him. Telling him to repeat what he just said. But he wouldn't. I didn't nod though. But his aura somehow turned back to the usual infant. An infant who only knows how to sleep and cry.  
  
And so… I gave up. So I continued driving. Midway, I stopped the car. And brought my son with me.  
  
I brought him to a forest. And I left him there. As I walk away, I told him, "I am not your father… Don't call me father…"  
  
I left him, without guilt nor conscience bothering me. I did it with anger. I did it with hatred… and unkindness. Those who made my wife suffer… those who killed my wife… I'll let them suffer… and I'll let them die.  
  
******  
  
For eight years, I lived the world with hatred. There was darkness and despair. I mourned for my wife. And in those years, I began to forgive my son… So I started to look for him again. For years, I kept on returning to that forest. I was challenged by wolverines and crows. As well as snakes and bears. But I remained standing. I remained strong… because I wanted to look for him… But I wasn't able to.  
  
He was gone. Together with my wife. And I started to feel the guilt. I abandoned him. Together with my wife. They are gone. And I was left alone. I would be happy if I could turn to my parents… But they have already departed. My friends slowly distanced away from me. I started losing everyone. Until I realized… I was fighting my way against the world.  
  
Then one day, the doctor I met visited me in my house. I welcomed him with a tea, but he declined it. Instead, he requested both of us to have a seat on the sala set.  
  
His face was different. He was sick and weak. And he seems to be aging rapidly. "How may I help you?" I asked.  
  
He nodded. "There's something I wanted to tell you."  
  
"What was it?"  
  
"My friend… the journey is not yet over. Even if you're down. Even if you think that the world is rivaling you… and is fighting against your will. There is still hope. Even in the darkest cave… there is light… because there is God."  
  
"When everything is in its darkest… believe in Him…" He proposed.  
  
I began to weep. And that was a weep that brought me up. It revitalized my lost self. Yes… I forgot about God. The one person who could've helped me. My only hope… My God…  
  
Tears lasted. And a hundred more drops followed. As I started to stop, I looked at the doctor, but he wasn't there anymore. He disappeared into thin air. There… I realized that heaven must be missing an angel. Because God loves me, he granted me an angel… an angel that would give me light and hope.  
  
I thanked God. And cried. "Forgive me, my God… for what I did… for what has happened… to my son… to my wife…"  
  
Though I didn't hear a yes… I realized that he has already forgiven me. But it was too late… too late to say sorry… to my wife… to my son…  
  
That day… was yesterday…  
  
******  
  
I ended my story. And I started to weep. The boy asked me why… but I just couldn't explain why. All I know is that I'm crying.  
  
"Anything wrong mister?"  
  
I nodded. And smiled at him. "Thank you for listening to me…"  
  
He bowed. And commented, "That was a really great story, mister."  
  
"May I know your name?" He repeated.  
  
I nodded. "I don't have a name. Like my son, I cursed my name. But to tell you the truth… it doesn't matter whether you have a name or not. What's more important is how you carry yourself as a person. How you learn to be good. And start to be Good. I told you my story… because I don't want you to experience what I experienced. I want everyone to live a happy life. To have friends… to love… and to be loved."  
  
My story lasted for a whole day. I then realized that the sun was about to set. And I heard someone calling the name Gon.  
  
Then the boy smiled at me and said, "My parents are now calling me. I have to go now, mister."  
  
I bowed. "Very well… little one."  
  
And he left, running to his mother and father. Then, they started to leave. As I follow them with my eyes, I felt warmth. And as they fade into the background, I looked beside me. It was the ball he claimed from me. He left it… and so… I picked it up and hugged it.  
  
"Gon… I'm happy for you… that you've found a new family. That there are still those kind person who helped you grow…"  
  
Gon… never come back… and think about me. Forget about your father… your father… who once abandoned you in the cruel forest. Your father… who cursed you… who never hugged you… nor took care of you… and now… your father who lied to you…  
  
I named that boy… Gon. And when I left him in the forest… the name Gon was with you…  
  
I didn't cry though… even when I lost my child to a couple. I was thankful… although regretful… I still smiled. The sun will soon set. And I am about to die. The poison in my body is starting to kill my body cells. Shortly, I'll feel numb. Those who lived a miserable life like me… are not worthy to live in a world granted to us by God. Those who are kind… are the only one deserving to live in this paradise.  
  
Shortly, I started to close my eyes, gently and calmly… so that when I close them completely, I would no longer have to open them again.  
  
******  
  
Remember those that you loved... and those who loved you... You are not alone... Because you have your friends... and because you have God... Always remember the days when you are small... the days when you felt the love of your parents... because those days are the happiest day in your life. Live the World fully... by being good. By helping others... by being a worthy child of God.  
  
There are days when we feel weak... when we feel down... but remember... when there is weakness... when there is darkness... there are still those who bring us light... we have our friends... Our friends are there to make us feel better... Then... there will be... Strength... and as long as there is strength... there is hope...  
  
  
  
******  
  
Hunter X Hunter Fanfiction - Days of The Strong.  
  
© April 17, 2002. All Rights Reserved.  
  
The End 


End file.
